


Lay to Rest

by domesticadventures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures
Summary: Dean holds Cas’ hand in his own, rubbing his thumb against his still-warm knuckles, back and forth, back and forth.“You promised,” he says, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You promised.”





	Lay to Rest

**Author's Note:**

> the beginning was inspired by [this frankly terrible gifset](https://godshipsit.tumblr.com/post/160842937679/) which continues to hurt me greatly

Dean holds Cas’ hand in his own, rubbing his thumb against his still-warm knuckles, back and forth, back and forth.

“You promised,” he says, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You promised.”

\--

In the dark, Jack looks like his father, eyes glowing a sickly yellow, mouth twisted into a cruel grin.

In the light, he just looks like a kid.

“Uh,” Sam says, slowly lowering his hand from the switch. “Hey.”

Jack looks at him, head tilted. He frowns, swallows a few times, opens and closes his mouth. Finally, he echos, “Hey.”

Jack watches silently as Sam walks over to him, kneels down. “Do you know who you are?” Sam asks. Jack shakes his head. “You-- your name is Jack,” Sam says. “I’m Sam.”

He holds out his hand, and when Jack takes it, he stands, helps him up onto unsteady feet. He slides his jacket off and wraps Jack into it, rolls up the sleeves. Jack looks up at him, smiling tentatively. He’s younger than Sam thought at first -- a child stuffed into a too-big body.

“C’mon,” Sam says, meaning to lead Jack out of the room, down the stairs, to the car and away. Instead, Jack makes his way to the adjacent bedroom. He stands in the doorway, staring at Kelly’s still form. Sam doesn’t bother asking if he knows who she is.

“I did this?” Jack asks quietly.

“No, it’s--” Sam says as Jack enters the room, moves to stand by the bed. “It’s complicated. It’s not your--”

Jack reaches out, touches Kelly’s hand with his own. Sam’s voice catches in his throat as Kelly opens her eyes and sits up.

“Jack?” she says, and bursts into tears.

\--

The footsteps making their way towards Dean stop a few feet away.

“What happened?” an unfamiliar voice asks. Something hot and ugly stirs in Dean’s chest, curls under his ribs.

“He, uh,” Sam says quietly, carefully. “He was killed.”

“By who?”

“By someone bad,” Sam says.

A pause. “Am I bad, too?”

“Good isn’t something you are,” Sam says with certainty. “It’s something you do.”

A single set of footsteps approaches, soft on the sand. Jack appears in Dean’s peripheral vision, kneeling next to Cas’ body, looking at him like he’s a curiosity, some soft dead creature he’s found on the beach.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Dean hisses, starting to stand, knees aching with the movement.

“Dean,” Sam says, moving into his space, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right.” He tilts his head, gesturing over his shoulder to where Kelly is standing in front of the house, looking their way with her hands covering half her face.

Dean turns back around.

Cas is staring up at him, brow furrowed. “Dean?” he says, fingers tightening around Dean’s own.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathes. He lets go of Cas’ hand and grabs him by his coat, pulls him up to sitting and into a hug, one hand wrapped around his back, the other curled around his neck.

“C’mon, let’s go back inside,” Sam says, then, “Hey, Cas. Good to have you back, man.” He touches his fingertips to Dean’s shoulder. “Come inside whenever you’re ready, all right?”

Dean nods into Cas’ shoulder.

Cas wraps his arms around Dean as the footsteps trail away, back towards the house. He says, softly, “Dean.”

From where his head is tucked against Cas’ neck, Dean can see the black marks of Cas’ wings still burned into the sand. He squeezes his eyes shut.

\--

Sam leads Kelly and Jack back into the house, up the stairs, towards the bedroom. He hovers in the doorway as Kelly pulls back the covers, as Jack climbs into the bed.

Jack settles his head on the pillow, turning his face towards his mom. He says, “Did I do good?”

“Yes, Jack, you did good,” Kelly says as she brushes Jack’s hair back from his forehead, tucks him in. “You did so good.”

Sam steps back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

\--

“Dean,” Cas says as Dean pulls him towards the house by his sleeve. “Wait.”

Dean ignores him, drags him up the beach and through the front door. They nearly crash into Sam in the entryway. 

“Uh,” Sam says, glancing between them. “We’re all set upstairs. Living room is all yours.” He turns and retreats back up the stairs.

Cas follows Dean into the living room. Dean lets go of Cas’ sleeve and sits on the couch, rests his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He says, keeping his voice low, “What were you thinking, man?”

Cas frowns at him. “What was I thinking about what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Dean says, lifting his head to look at him. “Ignoring the plan? Rushing in like that? Turning your back on Lucifer?” He gestures to the stairs. “Running off and refusing to let us help you?”

Cas sighs. “I saw a world without pain or suffering,” he says. “I saw a world where you and Sam could be happy, where--”

“Where you were dead?” Dean snaps. “Huh? Is that what you wanted?”

Cas looks at him levelly. “If that’s what it took.”

Dean laughs humorlessly. “No, fuck that. I didn’t want that. I don’t want it.”

Cas rolls his eyes, throws his hands up. “Well, then, what _do_ you want?”

“I wanted this!” Dean says, pushing himself up off the couch, spreading his hands wide. “I wanted this imperfect, fucked up little life we’ve carved out for ourselves, okay? I wanted my mom here even if it was awkward as hell, but now she’s gone, and I wanted--”

“We’ll get her back,” Cas says.

“I know, okay, I know that, but it’s--” Dean takes a steadying breath. “We’re not going to get ourselves killed doing it, Cas, don’t you get it? You think I could be happy if you were dead, huh? Don’t you think you matter?”

Cas shifts uncomfortably. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, staring down at the floor. “That I’m sorry?

“Christ, no,” Dean says. “You don’t have to apologize. But you also didn’t have to-- you don’t have to-- to earn your place here or whatever, you don’t have to get a win for us, you don’t have to prove anything. How are you not getting this?”

“Please don’t be angry,” Cas says, voice shaking.

“I’m not angry, Cas, I’m fucking--” Dean has to stop to take a shuddering inhale-exhale, cast his eyes to the ceiling. “You died, Cas. You _died._ And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, and all I could think was I never-- we never--”

“What?”

“You said that you-- that you--” Dean drags a hand over his face. He forces himself to meet Cas’ eyes. “Don’t you think we love you, too? Don’t you think I--” he says, stopping short when Cas inhales sharply. “Can’t that be enough? Do you really need some-- some grand purpose or whatever?”

Cas is the first to look away. He says, quietly, “Who would I be without it?”

“You’re _you,_ Cas,” Dean says, throwing his hands up. “You saved the damn world several times over. You never stop trying to do the right thing. You care about people frankly way more than I’ll ever understand and you-- you’re my friend. My family. You’re-- that’s-- you’re more than enough.”

Cas stands for a few long moments, hands clenching and unclenching. He swallows hard, looks past Dean, over his shoulder, and says, “You should get some sleep. I’ll watch-- I’ll keep watch.”

Dean sighs. He turns and moves away from Cas, sits back down on the couch and pulls off his boots. He slips off his jacket and his buttondown, sets them off to the side. He looks Cas up and down and stands up again, steps into his space. “You’re gonna be finding sand in this damn coat for weeks,” he says, and starts brushing it off his sleeves.

“Dean,” Cas says. Dean reaches up to brush more sand off his shoulders. “Dean, stop,” Cas says, reaching up to wrap his hands around Dean’s wrists. “It’s fine. I’m--”

“Don’t,” Dean says. He slides his hands down, fists them in Cas’ lapels. “Don’t say you’re fine. Just. Don’t.”

Cas nods, drops his hands. Dean takes a few deep breaths before loosening his grip and shifting to slide Cas’ coat over his shoulders. Cas offers no resistance as Dean pulls it off and tosses it over the back of the nearest chair, but he can feel Cas’ eyes on him as he does the same with Cas’ suit jacket, as he unties Cas’ tie. “Shoes,” he says, once Cas is down to his slacks and button-down. Cas obediently pulls them off, sets them to the side.

Dean grabs Cas by the front of his shirt and tugs him over to the couch. He lies down and pulls Cas with him, maneuvers them so they’re lying with Dean’s back pressed against the cushions, his body curling around Cas’, his arm wrapped around Cas’ torso. It’s only then that he releases his grip, flattening his hand to let it rest against Cas’ chest.

“Dean,” Cas says quietly. “Why are you doing this?”

“To make sure you don’t disappear on me while I’m sleeping.”

A few moments pass in silence before Cas says, “Is that the only reason?”

“No,” Dean says. There are flecks of sand still clinging to Cas’ hair, to his skin, but Dean leans in and presses his lips to the back of Cas’ neck anyway.

Cas’ chest rises and falls beneath Dean’s hand.

After a moment, Cas reaches up, brushes his fingertips over Dean’s knuckles. He rests his hand over Dean’s, twining their fingers together.

**Author's Note:**

> [here's](http://domesticadventures.tumblr.com/post/160930010127/) a rebloggable version on tumblr if you're so inclined!


End file.
